I’d consulted the tide chart to plan this trip, so it’s no coincidence that the lowest negative tides of the season are this week. I’d been craving the dark, sharp rocks decorated with the textures and colors of seastars, anemones, crustaceans and all manner of undersea life.

I got hooked on this glimpse of ocean life while tidepooling on the Olympic Peninsula two years ago. Endless fascination. I could’ve spent all day on those beaches. It was past time to go back. San Juan Island had been lingering on my ever-expanding travel list for longer than I’d like to admit. It has charismatic sea animals (big and small), rugged seascapes, tidepooling beaches, coveted spring wildflowers and controversial wild foxes.

Low Tide

I set down my pack, swapped my hiking shoes for water shoes and waded into the cool Pacific waters. This cove is a kelp forest. Prime sea habitat. However, when the water leaves, the rocks are covered in undulating ribbons of vegetation that hide and protect the treasures I’d come to discover.

However, the kelp and seaweed bring their own art to the low tide beaches.

Intricate Details

Two steps into the calm, shallow water, an aptly named decorator crab scuttles toward the cover of floating seaweed. If it hadn’t moved, I never would’ve noticed it.

Like caterpillars and caddisfly larvae, these animals camouflage themselves (i.e., decorate) with surrounding detritus.

Instead of an exploration of the larger, dramatic, colorful invertebrates, this is a glimpse into the tiny world of snails, shrimp and crabs. I was thrilled to find a nudibranch tucked in on exposed rock! Nudibranchs are exotic, brilliantly colored sea slugs (marine gastropod mollusks lacking external shells).

Colony-forming anemones cover the wet sand. Between the anemones, barnacles, chitons and slippery mosses, it’s slow going as I carefully pick my way along the sharp, rugged shoreline, trying not to squish anyone. I covered some stranded red rock crabs to protect them from the sun and the lurking gulls and crows, who know the tide schedule better than anyone.

There were plenty of crabs under the water, too. They’re small and would be hard to find if they weren’t always on the move. 

And other scurrying little critters. I thought this was a school of minnows before I looked closer. So many shrimp! 

Chitons are ancient, armor-plated mollusks. They adhere themselves so tightly to the rocks when the tide goes out that they cannot be removed with bare hands. I’d never seen the underside of one before. This one was alive, so I righted him and set him on a rock.

Reefs Exposed

There were anemones. So many small anemones. I photographed many underwater between swells and waves of obscuring kelp, in rhythmic time when the colorful animals were revealed.

And then there’s the coral reef life exposed. All the things that I enjoy while snorkeling, some, like sponges and tunicates, look the same, others, like the featherduster worms, required some help to identify.

A Surprise Encounter

As the tide began to draw the curtain on these treasures, I stood marveling at how quickly the sea returns (the ebbing tide is comparatively slow), when I caught motion from the corner of my eye. My first split-second reaction was, “Fox!” (There are so many here, and the size is right), but then my brain caught up to what I was seeing. A river otter loping over the rocks just yards in front of me.

Without a sound, he slipped into the water. Once he was out of sight, I stepped back just far enough to see around the massive boulder between us. Without acknowledging me, he swam directly to the shore fifty feet to my right, bounded across the beach and disappeared into a dark, treed ravine strewn with deadfall.

I’m delighted by this random glimpse of an otter living his life. Grinning ear to ear, I walked along the shoreline until I came to otter prints exiting the surf. The prints are closer to me than I’d thought, but it all happened so fast. I didn’t question it.

I followed the trail up the beach, crossing the deer tracks that I’d noticed earlier, curving near my pack and shoes (thankfully untouched by this curious, playful creature!).

That’s when I saw the other otter tracks! This is the trail from the otter I’d seen, exiting the water further away from where I was, as I’d suspected. Both tracks disappeared into the same drainage. This must be their home.

While marveling at the otter tracks and piecing together what had happened while I was absorbed in the tiny sealife at my feet, I saw that this first set of otter tracks crossed a trail of fox prints! The fox traversed the beach parallel to the water without deviation in pace or path.

I am ecstatic that all of this wildlife activity took place in proximity to me and without regard to me – even if I didn’t know it at the time. Being seen by wildlife as a normal, acceptable part of their environment is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

False Bay

The next day, I tidepooled at False Bay, where I saw another river otter swim past me, lope up a beach and disappear into a similar drainage. The timing relative to the tide was the same as the day before.

So the following day, using the tide as my guide, I brought a cooler down to Granny’s Cove to tailgate and wait for an otter to appear. It was a peaceful, gorgeous way to spend a couple of hours. But no otter. 

Above the Water

Stay tuned for the foxes and orcas of San Juan Island.

If you’re interested in purchasing or licensing any images you see here, please email me at SNewenham at exploringnaturephotos.com, and I’ll make it happen.

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The post Tidepooling Surprises on San Juan Island appeared first on Exploring Nature by Sheila Newenham.

With headlamps and flashlights, we slowly step across sharp rocks along the edge of the eastern shoreline. It’s 7:30 pm, and the tide is out on Long Caye on Belize’s Glover’s Reef Atoll. Our guide shines his light on a blurry turquoise blob distorted by the waves on the beige sea floor. “Caribbean reef octopus,” he says. “If you say so,” I think to myself.

We move on. Tidal Splash crabs scatter sideways at our approach. There’s another octopus! This one is in calmer seas, her characteristic shape more easily evident undersea.

She slides in our direction, out of the waves and into the still edge of the ocean where her full brilliance is revealed. Iridescent turquoise-blue and green, spotted with reddish-brown. Slithering, reaching, feeling – hunting! A few more steps and there’s another! This one is already at the water’s edge. He’s after the Tidal Spray crabs at our feet! He strikes with his long arms and misses. But he knows where they went and slinks around a rock to head them off on the other side. He strikes again in a flash and pulls one into his mantle.

At the end of the video, one crab escapes, and one does not. You can see the crab leg in the crevice on the left before the octopus pulls him down.

We watch him for a minute and then leave him with his meal.

A bright red fiddler crab pokes out of her hiding spot to shoo off a Tidal Spray crab and instantly disappears back into the shadows.

Another octopus! This one is also close to shore. She is hunting using a common octopus technique; she spreads her skirt over the bottom to siphon her prey out of the crevices where they hide. We watch her deftly catch something and begin to eat. It’s a sizable meal for her.

 Caribbean reef octopuses are a medium-sized octopus, growing up to twenty inches in diameter. They are short-lived, like most octopus, with a lifespan of just ten to twelve months. In all, along a hundred yards and forty-five minutes, we saw twelve (TWELVE!!) Caribbean reef octopuses on this walk.

Other Exotic Night Life

Also venturing out after dark in the ocean, giant sea slugs called spotted seahares creep along the sea floor. The way they move and explore their environment with their mouth and tentacles, just like a shell-less snail, identifies them as gastropods. Ruffled parapodia on their backs cover their mantle.

They secrete foul-tasting purple ink to cloud the water and deter would-be predators. I’d heard of these animals before, but never expected to see one here!

A gorgeous King Helmet conch (also a gastropod) feasting on a spiny urchin was within reach.

This is a big conch – more than a handful – with a striped, domed shell featuring a flare at one end.

Endlessly fascinating!

Lastly, a young morey eel is tucked into the safety of the coral, part of his striped body visible through a hole. He cautiously peeks his head out from the end of the coral, sees me still there, and retreats into hiding. He’s less than twelve inches long and the diameter of my thumb. A far cry from the six-foot-long green eel I saw snorkeling yesterday!

The sea is full of exotic-looking life at every turn. It never ceases to amaze. I am blessed that so many creatures reveal themselves to me. Even so, this was an exceptional shore walk.

Stay tuned for more Belize wild tales!

If you’re interested in purchasing or licensing any images you see here, please email me at SNewenham at exploringnaturephotos.com, and I’ll make it happen.

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The post Tidepooling at Night appeared first on Exploring Nature by Sheila Newenham.